


The Beginning of The Winter

by Pacifia



Series: Adventures_in_Narnia_2021 [5]
Category: Chronicles of Narnia - C. S. Lewis
Genre: Archenland, Gen, Narnian history
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-19
Updated: 2021-02-19
Packaged: 2021-03-15 08:33:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,812
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29556387
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pacifia/pseuds/Pacifia
Summary: Relating to the start of Jadis's tyranny and the perpetual winter. An excerpt from the University of Anvard.
Series: Adventures_in_Narnia_2021 [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2143263
Kudos: 4





	The Beginning of The Winter

_Copied from the Archives of the University of Anvard_

**OoOoOoOoOoOoO**

I was the son of a trader and I travelled with my father throughout Archenland. In those months of summer when the heat was pouring down from the sky and was shooting up from the baking earth, my father received a letter from a merchant that wished to buy the silk that had recently crossed the southern border through the pass through the desert. And my father, knowing the merchant must be wealthy and have a powerful position in the city of Caudisa, had made haste to reach him, hoping to weaken his bargaining options without any competitors against us.

I had been relieved beyond any word I can write now. There were plenty of reasons for me to wish a leave from the burning south. First the heat evidently. But the poor region we stayed in for the six months on the summer season had deprived us of any resources. We were below the lowest standard of poverty, and competition striving higher had ensured my father did not earn a penny above the amount required to pay for a night's meal.* In our misery, the wealthy traders jeered us, mocking the time we had also been wrapped in gold. But it was all before Remia. However, as my overseer instructs me, I shall not delve deep into matters that are irrelevant in this account.

* * *

As one reader had asked this question in later years, this small addition may be referred to as the answer. Why did the merchant then ask for us, the poorest of the traders, and possibly the most inefficient? The answer is a crooked one. It was a desperate time, and the deed we did wasn't just, I admit. We had found the letter sent by the merchant to Gor, the most successful trader of his time. He had been drinking in his tavern, and when his eyes were turned away, we seized the opportunity and stole the letter. The merchant had detected no foul play however, as we had dressed our best and delivered him the goods he had asked for.

* * *

Now, the merchant in the north had turned out to be the son to a nobleman, a rebellious member who had wanted to make his own living rather than being fed by the Castle of Anvard simply because he was aristocracy. His name was Tranin. He was young with a subtle moustache that he groomed every day. And I had taken an instant liking to his care-free demeanour and kind disposition. He was also a man of his word, and he had mentioned in the letter, we had been given a place to stay for a whole week in Caudisa (1), soothed by the sea breezes and the gentle sun of the north.

It happened on the third day of our stay.

My father had insisted he work and pay the rent to Tranin. And despite the merchant's objections and gracious grants, he had left for a nearby village to work in the fields of a landowner. The landowner was haughty and of a vicious temperament. We had paid his pugnacious tendencies little heed as we were not to stay for long, and went to labour in his fields.

The fields were adjacent to a small stream that would journey long to join the Archen river. And beyond the stream lay the most beautiful and queer land I had known: Narnia. As we toiled to place the rice samplings into the soil, my eyes were affixed on the landscape before me.

It was then that I noticed the most unusual thing. It was snowing. Endless white snow falling from the grey clouds that did not extend beyond the stream. I knew Narnia was not subject to hazardous climate as Calormen was. I had heard stories from the international traders, the fascination with the land and her queen never diminishing. Narnia had lovely springs with winds carried from the sea and charming summers the sun did not abuse. I had not heard of their winters, but I was certain the season didn't begin at that time of the year.

Curious, I had risen and subtly left the fields, unnoticed by the labourers that had no time to look up from their working hands. As I got closer to the stream, the air grew ever-colder. Surprised, I shivered and hugged myself with my feeble arms. Closer and closer I walked until a shudder shook my frame and I stared, horrified, at the stream. It had frozen. The water was unmoving, the ice picking its away from the north towards me. But I composed myself and waited until the stream was absolutely frozen solid. Then I stepped lightly on the ice. The thudding sound that came was reassuring and fearful at the same time. Swallowing, I slowly took a step further. Then another and another. I had reached the opposite shore when my father bellowed my name in terror.

I swivelled around, guilty that I had made my father worry. But his concern was not in vain, for I had not noticed the jingling of the bells and the rapid hoofbeats in my excitement.

"Ron, come back! Now!" he was screaming as the onlookers watched in horror.

I twisted to glance back. The bushes were rustling, and I could see glowing eyes blinking sadly at me. I noticed the birds sorrow-filled tunes and the defeated growls in a distance. And I finally heard the cracking of a whip and the hoof beats approaching fast.

In my panic, I raced away from Narnia, back onto the frozen river. It was slippery, but I somehow managed to reach Archenland without incident. My father's arms were around me in an instant and he was hurling me back, other frenzied voices hollering for the news to be taken to the king. I looked around and realised the crowd of the curious onlookers had grown. Turning back to Narnia, I froze in fear.

It was a pale woman, white as the snow that had covered Narnia. It wasn't the pallor of an illness, no. Her whiteness and her ungodly height were her identities, that everyone must know she is to be feared, that she was dominating and all-powerful. I, though scared out of my wits, stared right into her crystal blue eyes, and she smiled at me enchantingly. I could feel the magic slowly cloud me. I shook the feeling away, trying to blow away the smell by waving my hands frantically. My father held me down, pinning me to himself.

And then, in the inevitable silence that had fallen, she spoke. "Sons of Adam, do not resist. Come along. Be at my side."

I was tempted to take her hand.

And as I learned later, all the others were too.

We were doomed. Our kingdom was to fall prey to this woman. But I could not worry about that at all. All that was apparent was her hand and my wish to take it. We still waited as she continued speaking, alluring us to her.

The haughty landowner went first.

In later years, it was theorized that she spoke to the evil inside us, to selfish desires. And I heartily agree with them.

The landowner was about to step onto the stream when a familiar voice saved us all from the woman. It was Tranin, bellowing at us to fight her, to pick up any makeshift weapon we could find and make use of it. And instantly, I picked up the stone resting in the grass beside me and threw it with all the force my arm could muster. It hit her sleigh. She was not pleased but did not fight us.

Stones and sticks flew, followed soon by arrows that Tranin's men had brought with them. One struck her arm. And I was mildly surprised when crimson blood flowed out of the wound. She growled at us, but fell back, dodging arrows by inches. One almost embedded itself into her stomach and that was when she made her retreat.

Tranin stepped forward as arrows continued to shoot at her. "Surrender, witch! We know you are not the Queen Swanwhite! Narnia is free! Take away your winter!"

She only gave Tranin a murderous glare and led away her sleigh, disappearing into the woods.

And then Tranin was yelling at the men to rescue the Narnians they could, and wait for the king before they went to fight the witch.

However, before we could even step onto the stream, the creatures, or the fell as we know them now, appeared through the woods, their weapons shining.

It was the beginning of the Battle of Arenn. I will not expound on it, but will only say that blood was shed on both sides, and we lost. The fell took the village and those who survived the battle were taken prisoners. They held the village for a whole day before the king's army arrived. They were a small battalion and had travelled fast through the plains. Another battle proceeded for the night and at last, the fell were made to retreat back into Narnia. The prisoners were freed and the villagers were given compensation for their loss. A portion of the army was posted at the village, as other fractions were sent to the villages that were also connected to Narnia.

The council took place at Anvard and news travelled that it was decided that Narnia could be not be salvaged from the witch, a decision made after fierce arguments, but it was the only logical option. The only thing we could do was to save Archenland from her tyranny. The mountains in the west would keep her out of Archenland for many years to come. Faster than I had imagined, walls were built in the eastern cities and villages, taller than a hundred feet and wider than twenty (2). They were fortified at all times and successfully defended Archenland against the subsequent attacks of the witch's army. It was years before she admitted defeat and accepted that she could not conquer the south as well. We heard she turned to the north instead.

The walls still stand in the east, but secret trades still take place through the mountains and the Archen river. Hope still shines bright in the hearts of the Narnians and we do everything we can to fuel it.

And we wait, for the Lion to roar once more.

**OoOoOoOoOoOoO**

_Ron Nabre went on to be a revered author after his father died of illness; his personal accounts include prayers to Aslan and the adventure he undertook when he journeyed through the mountains to Narnia. Ballads he wrote are still sung in taverns in Archenland and his poems are preserved in the university of Anvard. Refer to shelf three for further information._

**Author's Note:**

> (1) - Refer to my bio on [FanFiction.net](https://m.fanfiction.net/u/13461111/?a=b) for more on expanded Narnian geography. 
> 
> (2) - The extreme east where the cities meet the sea are not protected by mountains. These walls could be taken down (in years, I know) after the winter to facilitate trade. Until then, it could proceed through the river and the mountains.


End file.
